Say Hello To All The Boys
by mr. eames
Summary: Well, boys will be boys, even in South Park, and sometimes, that means kissing other boys. 10 drabbles, all slash, multiple pairings, book meme/challenge.


**Say Hello To All The Boys**

**A/N**: Alright so, you take a book and take the first full line from every tenth page, once you have ten, use each quote to write a drabble. Mix, let sit and cool, then: enjoy.  
**Warnings**: Pah, oh, you know. Gayness and swearing and fun things like that, nothing too crazy.  
**Pairing(s)**: Kyle/Stan, Craig/Tweek, Kyle/Kenny, Kyle/Cartman, Craig/Clyde, Kyle/Christophe, Kenny/Butters, it's a fucking field day, eh?  
**Disclaimer**: The book used is Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk. The characters aren't mine - yet. And the title of this lil' thing comes from the song When I Get Home You're So Dead by Mayday Parade, although it really has no connection to the song, er, yeah.

**I**.  
**'**_Don't expect this to be the kind of story that goes: and then, and then, and then.**'**_

"No, wait, I don't think we stopped the first night."

Stan squinted and cocked his head to the side. "Maybe you're right. I do know we stopped the second night."

"After asking the hitchhiker for directions, right?" Kyle asked, grinning.

"No, dude, it was before," Stan said, shaking his head. "We asked the hitchhiker for directions in the morning. We got the hotel room first."

"Well was it before or after you guys had sex at the hotel?" Cartman interjected sarcastically.

"After," Kyle said, decidedly. Then he blanched. And then everyone else at the lunch table was staring at them. And then Kyle practically fled from the lunch room and Stan went after him.

"Whoa," Cartman said, in awe, "I never thought that would work."

* * *

**II**.  
**'**_A suicide load of Darvon slides down into the dark interior of the continents that make up a world of Brandy Alexander_.**'**

Craig was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. So maybe he was a little bit justified in getting pissed off at Tweek.

"You know," he said, harshly, "drinking too much coffee, it can kill you."

Tweek stared, wide-eyed down at his coffee. "N-no," he mumbled, shaking his head, his eyes softening. "That's not possible, Craig, i-it's coffee. Coffee, man."

Craig stared at him for long moments, but Tweek just smiled down at his addiction.

"Yeah, well, you keep looking at it like that and the coffee's going to fall in love with you." Tweek looked back up at Craig with surprise, but the raven-haired boy had averted his eyes.

And so Tweek let himself look at Craig the same way he looked at coffee.

* * *

**III**.  
**'**_Manus comes to sit in the studio audience, and after the shoot he goes, "Let's go sailing," and I go, "Sure!"_**'**

"This is fun," Cartman says, cheerfully.

"This is stupid," Kyle replies, "I don't even know why I'm here."

"It's an adventure," Cartman explains, the boat rocking as he leans forward slightly, "who _wouldn't_ want to be here?"

"Everyone else you asked to come?" Kyle snorts at the indignant look on the other young man's face. "For a boat ride. On a _pond_. No one wants to go for a boat ride on a pond."

"Except for you. You profess to hate me. And, yet, here you are." Cartman is smiling. Smugly. Almost pleased. Like he's figured something out.

Flushing, Kyle just says, "Shut up. Fuck, I hate you."

"I'm sure you do." The boat rocks a bit more and the talking all but stops.

* * *

**IV**.  
**'**_Don't make me laugh_.**'**

"Ha, ha, ha," Clyde said, sarcastically, as he put another book back on the shelf.

"Clyde listen to me."

"Really, you're hilarious, Craig."

They began to weave through the bookcases in the library; Clyde with the precision of someone who worked there, Craig with the fumbling clumsiness of someone who couldn't spell 'library.'

"You're being stupid."

"Or maybe I'm being really smart, only you don't know it, because you're the stupid one."

"Okay, now _you're_ the funny one."

And then Craig did it again, pushed him against one of the book cases and just - fuck - made out with him like there was no tomorrow. While Clyde started to put the books that they had knocked down back into their original places, Craig just smirked.

"Seriously, you can't say that you don't like when I do that."

"Don't make me laugh."

* * *

**V**.  
**'**_My fiance left me_.**'**

Stan downed a shot. Then another. Then he decided to move up to heavier stuff. There was vodka in the bottom cupboard. Ah, well, his parents didn't have time to drink any more and he was happier to pretend they didn't even think about alcohol these days.

He put the pictures in the living room face-down.

First the one of him and his parents on vacation.

Then one of him and Wendy before prom.

The one from when Shelley had graduated from U of C.

But not the one of him and Kyle from middle school, ages ago.

Jesus, he thought, taking a swig of vodka, you tell your soon-to-be blushing bride that maybe you're kind of in love with your male best friend and she _totally_ overreacts.

Maybe it was time to admit he had a thing for drama queens...

Nah, nah, it was definitely time to get drunk.

* * *

**VI**.  
**'**_"These guys don't need to put up with jobs or relationships."_**'**

"So...you get a job yet?"

"Nope," Christophe replied, turning a page in his book.

"Is that a 'no' nope or an 'I'd have to kill you if I told you' nope?" Kyle asked, offhandedly.

"You can take et as an 'I can't tell you eizer way' one," the other answered, serenely.

"Hmm." The redhead tapped his pen against the table. "Dating anyone these days?"

"Is zat a proposition?"

"Hardly," Kyle replied, his voice flat.

But, Christophe noticed, he was trying to hide a smile.

* * *

**VII**.  
**'**_Brandy Alexander, her nylon stocking feet up on the dashboard, the queen supreme's still reading her paperback_.**'**

Kyle nearly fainted.

"Oh come off it," Kenny said, rolling his eyes. "I know how to read."

"I know," Kyle grinned from the floor, "but it's just a shock to see you doing it_...normally._ Especially Shakespeare, Titus Andronicus, man."

"Brings back memories," Kenny grinned at the thought. "You do realize...uh. You're in a pretty compromising position right now. And this book or play or, um, heh, whatever, it's not that good at distracting me."

"So do something about it."

So Kenny, being Kenny, did.

* * *

**VIII**.  
**'**_There's the cut-glass tray of sweet pickles and celery filled with peanut butter_.**'**

"Oh, yeah, mom, you know I'd love to come home for dinner tonight," Craig said, nervously, glancing around his room. "It's just, uh..."

"Just what?" his mother cut in, sharply, her voice grating from the other end of the phone line.

Craig's whole body was in protest, it knew what his mother's cooking meant. Luckily it wasn't instant death, but it still only gave one enough time to start dictating your will. Not enough time to finish it.

"Ah, you know what mom, I have a date," he said, internally praying to some higher power that he was a better liar over the phone than he was in person.

"A date?" his mother sounded skeptical. "With who?"

Someone knocked on Craig's apartment door. "Er, ah, enh," he said, practically sprinting to answer it. "Oh, Tweek."

"With Tweek?" his mother shrieked, the phone line going dead a second later.

"We're going on a date," Craig informed his best friend, happily.

Tweek twitched.

* * *

**IX**.  
**'**_Jump to the sad moment when we buy our tickers and get on the big glass elevator that slides up the middle of the Space Needle_.**'**

"This is fun, isn't it, Kenny?"

"This makes me want to kill small children, Butters," Kenny replied in the same sweetly optimistic voice.

"Oh, w-well, that's no good," the other blond said softly. He followed Kenny to the other side of the observation deck. "It sure is better than being in school though, huh?" he asked, his voice nearly silenced by a large gust of wind that pushed the hood of Kenny's parka back.

"Fuck," Kenny all but yelled, violently pulling the hood back up. "Don't understand why they had to bring us to Seattle. It's a senior trip, no one wants to go to Seattle. Fucking cheap, like the Space Needle is even somewhere anyone wants to go to any - um, Butters?"

"Yes?" Butters said, his tone dreamy.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Without your hood on...you're pretty." A silent moment passed, then - Butters blushed furiously and ducked down to hide his face.

Kenny just grinned and became very happy he had Butters as a roommate.

* * *

**X**.  
**'**_How could I be so dumb_.**'**

"Well," Kyle said, considering the question. "Let me count the ways." He cleared his throat.

"First off, you expect me to reciprocate your feelings without considering that I might have some of my own.

"Second, you practically stalked me - for, like, a week. I noticed. You weren't as suave as you think with your 'introduction.'

"Third you have this ridiculous notion that you're a mercenary, when really you're just kind of handy with a shovel and some rope.

"And fourth, my mom's going to be home in five minutes and she's not going to be happy that you're here. You know, on her favorite couch. And your clothes are, well, on the floor rather than - "

"It wasn't a question, Broflovski," Christophe said, jumping up and pulling various articles of clothing off the floor.

"Oh I know, it was just some things I had to point out. Man, though, it's nice to know my mom can even scare a French mercenary."

Christophe glared, Kyle grinned.

**A/N**: So I basically wrote this all using my phone. Which I was using to write, as I have really, really, really, really, _really_ limited computer time. Then, of course, my phone got dropped in water. So, yeah, life sucks for me, because pretty much all I do is write and listen to music, and without a computer I can't do either. But hey, I can quickly scan through reviews during class once and a while. So, really, leave a review and let me know what you thought, though these were all just for fun, really, it'll make my day not as...suckish. Or something. :D  
-tweek


End file.
